


Fallen Through Time

by ameliaapond



Category: Outlander (TV), The 100 (TV)
Genre: 1700's scotland, 1940's scotland, F/M, Outlander AU, Time Travel, bellamy blake in a kilt, modern (?) au, will add tags when i write more lol, you never knew you wanted one until now!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-13
Updated: 2017-01-05
Packaged: 2018-08-14 19:14:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8025724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ameliaapond/pseuds/ameliaapond
Summary: Life after the war was difficult at best. Clarke and her husband decided to try and reignite their once passionate marriage and settle back into everyday life with a second honeymoon to Inverness. But Clarke's curiosity gets the better of her and will set her on a journey that will change her life (and history) forever.(It's the Outlander!AU you never knew you wanted!)





	1. Epilogue

Clarke's feet were heavy with caked on mud. Her shoes, once a pristine white, were now a dull rust colour, stained with years of dirt, blood and grim. The soldier in front of her, of whom his friend called ‘Jacky’ was thrashing and wailing on the table, the large wound on his leg bleeding at a steady rate. Clarke’s hair; frizzy and unkempt, was falling out of the braid on the back of her head, whisps of it tickling her forehead, making it increasingly difficult to concentrate on stemming the bleeding. She wiped the back of her hand along her forehead, leaving a sticky trail of crimson red blood behind. Her hand went back inside the solider leg, raising her voice to the nurses around her,

 

“We need to clamp the femoral artery or he is going to bleed out right here. Hold him down, you hear me? No matter how much he thrashes, hold him down!” Clarke tells the young mans friend, who grabs the soldier’s shoulders and forces them into the stiff wood of the made-shift operating table.

 

As she is handed the clamps, the army doctor rushes over to her, taking the clamp from her hand and rushing her away. She is handed a damp cloth and is ushered to a more quite part of the destroyed building that was the British army’s make-shift camp. She rubbed the cloth over her face and neck, before scrubbing her hands viciously, trying to rid her hands and nailbeds of left over blood.

 

She stands still, listening to the faint sounds of wildlife, and the bustle of the camp behind her. A buggy full with soldiers and army nurses drives past her, them all laughing and cheering. She looks quizzically at the back of the car, wondering how a group of people can be so carefree when faced head-on with a war. she shakes her head before a fellow nurse runs up to her, her eyes shining, a giant smile plastered on her face.

 

“Clarke! Did you hear? The war is over, its finally over!” she cried, handing Clarke and open bottle of champagne and running over to the now large group, cheering and whooping.

 

Clarke stared at the bottle for a moment, before bringing it up to her lips and taking a long draw from the glass bottle, the slight sting at the back if her throat a welcome feeling. She looks over at the group and smiles. She can finally go home.

 

* * *

 

Clarke Josephine Elizabeth Griffin, named after her maternal grandmother was born April 12th 1918, to wealthy and loving parents. She grew up in the countryside, surrounded by lush green grass, rolling hills as far as her blue eyes could see, and constant love from both her mother Abigail and her father Jacob. When she was five, they died in a freak automobile accident, killing both Clarke’s parents instantly. She tearfully said goodbye to the countryside, and began living with her uncle Marcus, and archaeologist. She grew up travelling; not an upbringing that was the norm for a young lady of noble birth.

 

She met Finnigan Collins, who was 12 years her senior in 1937. After a whirlwind romance, they eloped and married a mere 3 months after their first meeting. Finn was a kind and devoted husband, a gentle lover, and a man of strong will. Both seemed to move in time with each other, one fluid body rather than 2 separate entities. Finn was a historian, focusing mainly on European Wars, which kept both him and Clarke busy but nomadic. After a mere year and a half of marriage, World War II broke out, separating the young lovers; Clarke as a combat nurse and Finn an officer for MI6. During the 6 years of the War, Clarke and Finn saw each other for a grand total of 10 days. Once the war ended, and both parties were safely back in London, they decided to go on a second honeymoon to Scotland; the same place they had their first honeymoon; Inverness. Partly as a holiday to forget the atrocities they had seen, but also as a way to relearn each other. They both had changed, the war aged them, not just their faces, but their minds as well. Both Clarke and Finn would rather forget what they had seen, and start their lives anew. If only is was that easy.

 

* * *

 

 

The fresh, crisp Scottish air reminded Clarke of one of her first memories as a child. She was four, possibly five, running rampant on the frosty grass, the crackling of the blades making her giggle. The cold morning air stinging her sinuses with each intake of breath. Her father was watching her from the doorway, a small smile on his face as he wrapped his cold hands around the cup of hot tea. She spun in circles, one after the other, looking up at the light blue, early morning sky, small cracks of sunlight hitting her small face and gold hair, shining a soft yellow light onto her and he father. It is one of the only memories she had of Jacob, and it is cloudy at best, but she loved to think about it. She became nostalgic driving down the hilly landscape, the sun high in the sky. She looked over at Finn, one hand on the steering wheel and one hand just above her knee and smiles at him, soft. He relayed the same smile back to her, the corners of his eyes crinkling, and moved his hand to grip hers. She looked down at their intertwined hands, rubbing her thumb over his knuckles before looking out the window at the Scottish Highlands, and let out a small sigh.

 

“ _This trip will be good for both of us, I know it.”_

 

* * *

 

The couple arrived at the small Bed and Breakfast half an hour later, checking in with a friendly lady, who insisted on them calling her Callie, smiling at the two. She led them up to the guest room of the small building, Finn carrying their luggage up the narrow and slightly rickety stairs. Callie unlocked the room for the couple, dropped the key into Clarke’s waiting hands and left them to their own devices.

 

“It has character Clarke. It’s a nice place, and in close correspondence with Reverend Sinclair.” Finn said, placing their trunks at the end of the double bed.

 

“I’m not arguing with you Finn. I’m sure we will be very happy here.”

 

Clarke ran her hand across Finn shoulders before he sat down on the bed. The springs groaned against the weight, letting out a loud squeak every time Finn shifted his weight.

 

“So much for marital privacy, huh?” Finn sighed, Clarke giggled in return.

 

The two stayed stoic for a moment, before Clarke toed off her shoes, her feet clad only in her thin pantyhose, and jumped up onto the bed. She started jumping, the springs squeaking and groaning with every movement. Clarke’s well placed hair was now out, framing her face and she laughed and stuck her hand out to help Finn up onto the bed. The both jumped, laughing before collapsing onto the bed, laughing. Clarke’s hair was in disarray, bits sticking up in every direction. Clarke climbed onto of Finn, her body flush against him. She started to kiss him, sweet and delicate at first, before Finn nipped at her lips, willing her to open her mouth. The kiss became heated almost instantaneously. They explored each others bodies, remembering each part that they have forgotten in the almost 6 years they had been apart. They were slow and tender with each other, each stoke of a hand soft and gentle, every kiss scathing but full of sweetness and love, leaving a trail of red, wet marks. They moved as one, each movement relayed by the other, the constant banging of the old cast iron bed frame banging loudly against the wall, making Clarke and Finn laugh.

 

* * *

 

Before the war started, Clarke and Finn had been trying for a child, but with no success. She often though, during the cold, dank nights, Clarke shivering underneath light, scratchy blankets, that she might be barren. Children weren’t something Clarke had thought of often in her formative years. She knew she would probably have to, some day, but never dreamt about small, squirmy babies, nestled tightly between her breast and her arm. But during the nights, without her husband, she never wanted anything more in her entire life to be holding something that was equal parts hers and Finn’s, her most prized possession and her greatest achievement.

The next day, Finn rises early in the morning to meet with Reverend Sinclair, who was one of the most well-educated men on Scottish history, and more so Finn’s British Captain ancestor; Jonathan Wolferton Collins, more commonly known as Black-Jack Collins. He leaves Clarke to sleep, as he and the Reverend were meeting downstairs, and she was able to awaken and come to introduce herself. It too her almost 3 hours to wake up and introduce herself to the reverend, and she sat listening to the two men talking in loud, boisterous voices before she grew bored, excusing herself to take a walk around the town, breathing in the country air. She looked in shops, collecting some trinkets to bring back for her friends, and arrived just in time for Callie to have serves supper, scolding the Reverend for messing us her lounge room, bits of paper strewn all over the room, covering almost every surface. Both the reverend and Finn looked sheepishly at the two women, and Clarke couldn’t help but let out a quiet laugh before bending down and kissing her husband.

 

* * *

 

For the next four days, Finn would go down and talk all day with the Reverend, leaving Clarke to her own devices; which consisted of her mainly reading through her small stack of books she brought with her on the trip, or soaking in a hot bath for hours at a time, something she missed dearly during the war. Finn _finally_ realised how bored his wife was, apologising profusely, before vowing that the next two days he would be all hers, and they could do whatever she pleased.

 

“Anything?” Clarke asked wryly, looking up at her husband through her lashes, her eyes hooded.

 

“Anything.” Finn whispered, firmly, His breath fanning onto her face.

 

Clarke roughly grabbed her husbands face, pulling him down onto his knees so that they were eye-level with each other before they both bolted forward, kissing each other with such ferocity; which both parties haven’t felt since they were newlyweds. They wrap themselves around each other, fucking slow and loving, no one in this whole world mattered but Clarke and Finn Collins, finally together again after so much time spent apart.

 

* * *

 

They stayed like that for the entirety of the first day, both sticky and bone tired, but euphoric, laying naked next to each other, chests heaving, but so incredibly happy. They slept well, tucked into each other until the sun was high in the sky. Both Clarke and Finn got ready slowly, stopping every few moments to touch each other, Clarke trying to kiss Finn’s bare shoulder or bicep, and Finn grabbing Clarke’s hands, laying to palm down on his much larger ones.

 

“I used to fantasise about your hands.” Finn said, playing with her fingers.

 

“My hands? Not any other part of me?” Clarke laughed out, looking at her husband quizzically.

 

“well, yes of course Clarke, but I could never seem to get your hands out of my head. I would absentmindedly doodle your palm onto almost any piece of paper I could find. I got scolded plenty of times for handing in documents with your palm lines scribbled onto the margins” Finn replied, turning over her hand and lightly running his fore finger over the lines in her palm, making her giggle and pull back her hand.

 

“Do you study me on my sleep or something? Know every part of me?” Clarke joked, pulling on her pantyhose.

 

“Clarke, I will never be able to forget any part of you, no matter how hard I try.”

 

 

* * *

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It only took me almost 3 months but here we go! This is shorter than i was wanting but the cliffhanger was too good to refuse! Hopefully it won't take another 3 months to post the next chapter!

They drove about an hour out of Inverness into the countryside, Finn talking animatedly about the things he learnt about his ancestor from the Reverend, and Clarke listening intently, smiling at her husband. They were silent for a few moments before Finn exclaimed,

 

“Clarke! You see up there? Up on top there, that's Cocknammon rock. And in the 17th and 18th centuries, you would have often found British army patrol up there lying in wait for Scottish rebels and brigands. Can you see how it commands the high ground in every direction? It was a perfect position for an ambush.” Finn said, pointed to an almost triangular rock protruding from the top of a hill.

 

Clarke looked up at the rock and smiled, “It looks just like a rooster’s tail.”

 

“And there you get the name.” Finn looked at her and laughed.

 

They travelled for another half hour before reaching their destination; Castle Leoch, a dilapidated stronghold nestled in the country side, left to disintegrate.

 

“So what I can gather, Castle Leoch was the ancestral home of the laird of the MacKenzie clan until midway through the nineteenth century.” Finn said while getting out of the car, running over to open Clarke’s door and help her out. Finn stared at the giant building while pushing his glasses up his nose, his eyes sparkling.

 

 While Finn decided to investigate inside the plant-infested castle, Clarke opted to stay outside and investigate the small clusters of plants in the fields behind the castle. Ever since the war Clarke’s new hobby was botany, especially plants and their medicinal properties. Everywhere she went, she carried a small, leather bound notebook and a pencil, picking small plants and pressing them within the pages, or drawing them to find in her encyclopaedia to study them. It took her mind off the atrocities she has seen, but also keeps her mind in her passion for medicine and helping people. She picked a few wildflowers, mostly for interest and not her work, while Finn investigated the castle, whistling and sketching the hearths of some of the rooms he was most interested in.

 

Clarke’s hair flew around her face with each gust of the cool Scottish wind, tickling her cheeks and chin. Every time she would try and get the hair out of her face, it would go straight back onto her eyes. She blew out an exasperated breath before returning to the car to grab a scarf, wrapping it around her head to keep the hair secure.

 

Clarke rounded the side of the castle, going towards the over grown hills looking for other herbs or small flowers. She found a beautiful, small bluebell blowing with the gusts of wind. There was no other flower like it around in the field, so she decided to leave it be, and just sketch it on her book. She pulled the graphite pencil from the spine of her notebook, and stared at the flora for several moments, trying to find small beauties in the bell shaped flower. She sketched the flower, using her left pointer finger to shade in the underside of the plant. Clarke was so occupied by her in depth drawing, she didn’t hear Finn coming up behind her. He grabbed her shoulders and shook her, causing her to let out a shriek and clutching at the breast of her coat. She turned around, red faced and flustered, before smacking Finn’s shaking shoulder. Clarke looked at Finn’s face, his eyes crinkling with laughter, while her face was holding a stern look before bursting into laughter.  

 

 

* * *

 

 

Clarke knew there was something wrong with her husband the moment they were reunited after the war. The once young at heart and carefree man she married was now a harrowed soul; one who carried too much but gave up very little, even to his loving and supportive wife. And don’t get her wrong, Clarke’s life had not been easy either, but with Finn, he was behind a desk, ordering man after man out behind the lines on secret missions and to their probable deaths. Clarke knew that he tried to hide it, behind sex and his witty banter, but there was something off about her husband, and Clarke was adamant to find out what that was.

The moment they both returned to Inverness, Finn and Clarke headed over to the Reverend’s house to go over even more paper work and old letters the man had found about Finn’s ancestors. Clarke sat on the couch, half listening to the two men go over Jonathan Collins’ whereabouts during his pillage across Scotland.

 

* * *

 

“It appears Black Jack commanded the Garrison at Fort William for four years or so.

Seems to have spent quite a bit of his time harassing the Scottish countryside on behalf of the crown.” Sinclair said, moving a piece of parchment over to Finn’s side of the table.

 

“Well, he was not alone in his endeavors though.” Finn replied, a tad defensive.

 

“The English were deeply unpopular throughout the Highlands in the 18th century.

Well into the 20th, it would seem.” Sinclair said, a small smile on his lips. Clarke’s ears perked up at this statement.

 

“I distinctly remember hearing the barman last night refer to us as ‘Sassenachs’.” Clarke stated, scratching at the side of her face.

 

“I hope you didn’t take offence to that. It merely means ‘Englishman’, or at a stretch, outlander.” Sinclair said, looking up at Clarke and Finn with sympathetic eyes.

 

Callie arrived a few moments later, a tray with a teapot and two cups carried in her hands.

 

“I though you gentleman would be up for a few refreshments. But I thought it would be nice for Mrs. Collins to join me in the kitchen.” Callie stated, placing the tray down in front of the Reverend, on the least dirty part of the table.

 

Clarke followed Callie as they walked into the kitchen, sitting down at the small table in the middle of the room. Callie poured out a cup for Clarke and she drank a long, warming draw before sighing.

 

“Oh my, it’s been so long since I’ve had a good cup of oolong. I couldn’t get it during the war.” Clarke said, closing her eyes for a moment before placing the cup back down on the saucer.

“It’s the best for reading too. I had such a terrible time with the earl grey. The leaves fall apart so quickly I couldn’t get a good reading out of them.” Callie laughed.

 

Clarke looked at her a little skeptically, before replying, “So, you read tea leaves?”

 

“I do. Just like grandmother taught me. And her grandmother before that. Come on, drink up, let’s see what the future has in store for you, my dear.”

 

Clarke quickly finished off her tea, before handing over the cup to Callie, who inspected it for a few moments.

 

“Well, am I going to meet a tall stranger and run away? Go on a trip across the seas?” Clarke said, looking at Callie, a small hint of sarcasm in her voice.

 

“Could be. Or not. Everything in its contradictory. There's a curved leaf, which indicates a journey, but it's crossed by a broken one; which means staying put. And there are strangers there, to be sure. Several of them. And one of them is your husband, if I read the leaves right.” Callie looked up at Clarke quizzically, her emotions unreadable. “My dear, give me your hand.”

 

Clarke places her hand in Callie’s waiting ones. She flips over the hand so its palm up, and starts dragging her pointer finger along the lines.

 

“Most hands have a likeness to them. There are patterns, you know? But this is a pattern I've not seen before. Oh, a large thumb. Now, means that you're strong-minded and you've a will not easily crossed.” Clarke nodded along, watching Callie work. “And this is your mount of Venus. In a man, it means he likes the lasses, but it is a bit different for a woman. To be polite about it, your husband isn’t likely to stray far from your bed.” Callie laughed out, glancing up at Clarke and smiling.  “The lifeline's interrupted, all bits and pieces. The marriage line's divided. Means two marriages. But most divided lines are broken. Yours, yours is forked.”

 

* * *

 

 

Clarke was still a little shaken by Callie words. Her belief in the supernatural was about on par with her Catholicism; shaky at best, but Callie’s words kept her ears ringing. She slowly walked down the stairs from the kitchen, catching the back end of a conversation Finn and Reverend Sinclair were having.

 

“I suspect your ancestor had a pardon. A high-born man of wealth that could protect him, exert some sort of influence to give him immunity.” Sinclair said shuffling though a large pile of papers.

 

“Of course, but who during that time could do that?” Finn replied, correcting his tortoiseshell glasses on the bridge of his nose.

 

The two men shuffled though papers for a few more moments before coming to the same conclusion.

“The Duke of Sandringham!” They exclaimed.

 

“Wait, wait, wasn’t Sandringham a suspected Jacobite himself?” Finn’s eyes were full of wonder, still shuffling through the table full of papers.

 

“I have a sneaking suspicion you’re right, Mr. Collins.” Sinclair looked at Finn with a coy smile on his face.

 

Finn turned around to see his wife staring out one of the big windows in the study, in her own mind. Finn looked back at the Reverend, who nodded at Finn. He got up off the plush couch and walked over for Clarke, placing his hands onto her shoulders lightly and placing a feather-light kiss to her cheek. She jumped at little, springing out of her mind, before looking over at Finn and giving him a small smile.

 

“Did you have fun with Callie?” Finn asked, his voice quiet, turning Clarke’s body away from the window to face him.

 

“I did. Her tea reading skills are enviable. I’m fading fast my love, I think it is time for a relaxing bath and a nap. I’m not going to be any help to you at the moment.” Clarke looked up through her thick lashes and smiles at Finn. His eyes softened and smiled back at her.

 

“That’s fine. I’ll stay here a while longer, if that’s okay. I think the Reverend and I are finally getting somewhere with Jonathan’s life.”

 

“That’s wonderful darling! Just make sure you get back before the storm hits. It’s supposed to be a big one and I would rather you stranded in my bed rather that over here.” Clarke let out a little giggle as Finn’s eyebrows shot up close to his hairline in shock. He gave a quick glance over at the Reverend to see if he was listening in before turning back to her.

 

“Clarke, we’re basically in a church! You can’t say things like that!” Finn hissed under his breath. Clarke smoothed out his frown with her thumb, kissed him and walked out the front door laughing.

 

 

* * *

 

 

When Clarke arrived back at her and Finn’s room, she toed off her shoes, pulled the pins out of her hair and ran herself a lovely warm bath. She sunk down into the water, feeling the water work at the knots in her lower back. Her head lulled to the side, resting on her shoulder. She still couldn’t forget Callie’s words. She felt that they may have a ring of prophesy to them. Clarke shook her head before fully submerging her body into the water.

 

About an hour later, Clarke climbed out of the bath, wrapping herself in a plush towel and drying her hair with another. Once her body was dry, she got into her sleeping gown and silk robe, waiting for her hair to be dry enough to brush. Her hair was starting to curl, but trying to work the knots out was a nightmare. Her brush was doing nothing for them. Her strokes became more and more violet, before the lights flickered and switched off, bathing her in darkness. The storm began half an hour ago, throwing heavy rain against the window, sounding like little bullets, making Clarke jump slightly.

 

She began lighting candles, singing a song under her breath before she heard the loud _thump_ of Finn’s shoes.

 

“Jesus Christ, Finn. You scared the wits out of me!” She scolded. Clarke looked at Finn’s pale face and instantly thought the worst.

 

“I was hoping to have the entire place lit up before you got back. Finn, what’s wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Clarke walked over to Finn’s motionless figure, helping him out of his soaked jacket. His face wet and ashen.

 

“I’m not all sure that I haven’t.” Finn replied, shaking out of his strange behavior before saying,

 

“He was standing at the obelisk in the town square, just staring up at the window at you. He was wearing a kilt, that I know for sure, but his face was covered by a hat, a sort of, beret. I walked over to him and when he pushed passed me, he was close enough that I should have felt him brush against my arm. But I felt nothing. I turned around to ask him something but he had vanished into thin air. I felt the biggest chill down my spine. Isn’t that strange?” Finn asked, sitting down on the reading chair near the fireplace.

 

“Hmm. Quite a few strange things happening today it seems.” Clarke replied. Finn ignored her final comment.

 

“Did you have many Scottish men in your charge during the war?” Finn asked, turning his body to face Clarke, who was sitting on the ottoman at the end of the bed.

 

“There were quite a few actually, yes,” Clarke shifted “There was this one man, he was a Piper in the third Seaforth’s. He couldn’t stand being stuck with a needle. Hated every moment being in the infirmary actually.” Clarke remembered the man fondly. She looked over at her husband who had a hard look on his face and in an instant her mood soured.

 

“What exactly are you asking me, Finn?” Clarke stood up, placing her hands on her hips and looking down at her husband.

 

“I saw the way that the man stared up at you through the window Clarke. I thought it may have been someone you nursed, hoping to,” Finn paused for a moment before adding, “reconnect. It wouldn’t be surprising if you sought comfort during the war.”

 

Clarke’s blood began to boil.

 

“Are you asking me, _Finnigan_ , if I have been unfaithful to you? Is that what you think of me?” She filled the sentence with so much venom she saw Finn flinch.

 

“No, darling no! all I’m saying is that if you had, it would make no difference to me. I love you, and nothing could stop me from loving you. I jumped to conclusions, I’m sorry, my love. Forgive me.” Finn got up off the chair and rushed over to Clarke, grabbing her face between both of his hands and stroking her cheeks, brow furrowed. Her face softened.

 

“Forgive you? Of course.”

* * *

 

The two of them made up quickly, getting into bed and lazily kissing, Finn filling Clarke in on his eventful day with the Reverend.

 

“Actually, that reminds me. I want to set an alarm.” Finn said, pulling away from Clarke to fiddle with the analog clock sitting on the bedside table.

 

Clarke sat up, pulling the bed sheet up under her arms, and leaning her head against her hand.

 

“Finn, I thought we said no alarms this trip?” Clarke replied, using her other hand to rub up and down Finn’s bare arm.

 

“Yes we did, but I want to see the witches.”

 

“Do I have to ask?”

 

“Apparently there is a circle of standing stones on the outskirts of the village, and there is a group of locals that still observe rituals there.”

 

“Well, they actually aren’t witches; this lot are meant to be druids.” Finn corrected, grabbing Clarke’s hand and playing with her fingers.

 

“Sadly, I don’t think they’re going to be a group of devil worshipers.” Clarke replied, thinking back to all the wonderful, kind people she has met on her trip.

 

“Well, it’s a pity, really.” Finn’s tone started to get playful, nipping at the ends of Clarke’s fingers.

 

“Well I can’t imagine _anything_ I would rather do with my time.” Clarke reached over to kiss the tip of Finn’s nose.

 

“Liar.” Finn replied. Clarke giggled, pulling away from Finn before asking,

 

“Where will we be going to observe this spectacle?” Clarke got out of bed, walking over to the small loveseat where her silk robe is laying on the back of the chair.

 

“A place called Craigh Na Dun.” Finn followed Clarke over to the seat, coming up behind her and kissing down her bare neck. Clarke hummed in response.

 

“According to local folklore, the stones were carried here from Africa by some Celtic giants.” Finn moved around to face her, kissing down the valley of her breasts before taking one of Clarke’s nipples into his mouth. Clarkes breath stutters before replying to Finn.

 

“I didn’t realize Celts took a lot of trips to Africa.” Clarkes answer was breathy. Finn let go of Clarke’s hard nipple before replying,

 

“Only the giant ones.”

 

* * *

 

 

The alarm Finn set went off at 4:00a.m. and Clarke cursed every god she could think of and her bastard of a husband before begrudgingly crawling out of bed and getting dressed, Finn was already awake, bouncing on the balls of his feet like a small child. The pair drove most of the way there, before deciding to trek the rest of the way to keep their location a secret to the ‘druids’ they were about to encounter. The frigid morning air ripped through Clarke’s large jackets, making her pull it in closer and grabbing onto Finn’s arm for support in the rocky terrain, but also in the hopes of her using some of his warmth to aid her chattering teeth. The pair walked up the hill, finally coming to a clearing and hiding behind a large boulder.

 

“Is that Inverness?” Clarke whispered to Finn, pointing the collections of lights in the distance.

 

“It must be.” Finn whispered back. Clarke heard crunching of leaves from her right side, grabbing Finn by the shoulders and pulling him closer to the ground.

 

“Is that Callie?” Clarke said, her voice still hushed but still full of surprise.

 

“I think that is. The Reverend’s house keeper is a witch!” Finn looked over at Clarke in glee.

 

“Not a witch, dear, a druid.” Clarke corrected her husband. “They look ridiculous, parading about on the top of a hill.” Clarke grumbled.

 

 Almost immediately after saying this, the hairs on the back of Clarke’s neck pricked at the sight of half a dozen women, dressed in flowing white gowns, too light to be warming the women in the cold air, holding lanterns, illuminated by small candles in each, danced around in the circle of stones. Each of the women wore crowns made from small blue and yellow flowers. Clarke knew that her and her husband shouldn’t be here, watching this sacred dance take place. She was an unwelcome visitor to something ancient. She shook her head and looked down, spotting a flower sticking out of the earth close to the boulder. Just as she was reaching for it, Finn grabbed her by her elbows and brought her onto her feet.

 

“someone’s coming. I think its best we leave Clarke.” Clarke nodded quickly and the pair scurried away back to the car, Clarke hoping to shake off the uneasy feeling festering in the bit of her stomach.

 

* * *

 

When they arrived back at their room, Clarke fell face first straight onto the bed and slept into the late hours of the morning. When she woke up, Finn was sitting on the bay window lounge reading a book, the morning light illuminating the stubble on his face, and his glasses, askew on his face. Clarke smiled to herself before stretching and getting out of bed. She got changed into her day clothes, then went searching for one of her botany books. She found the one she was looking for in her trunk; Volume 3, before sitting down next to her husband, and began looking through to book for the flower.

 

“What are you looking for my love?” Finn asked, touching her shoulder with a soft hand.

 

“When we were at the stones this morning, I saw a flower. I think it was a forget me not but in not 100% sure.” Clarke replied, flipping through the book before finding the page on the aforementioned plant.

 

“Well, why don’t you go and try and find it?” Finn said, closing his book and taking off his glasses, setting them down on the small bureau near the window.

 

“I was considering it. Would you like to join me?”

 

“I would love to, but I have an appointment with the Reverend. Last night he found a box of materials, bills of sale from Black Jack’s quartermaster.”

 

“that sounds terribly riveting.” Clarke replied.

 

“You’re laughing at me.” Finn deflated a little.

 

“No, no my love of course not! Shall I meet you for dinner?” Clarke leaned over to kiss Finn’s cheek, but he turned his face and she kissed his lips.

 

“That would be wonderful.” Finn said through the kiss, before breaking away and getting ready to leave.

 

“Love you!” Clarke called after him.

 

“Love you more.”

 

* * *

 

Clarke arrived at the stones, the sun high and warm in the sky. She walked around, finding the flower she was playing with just hours before, plucking it from the ground. She had forgotten her leather notebook, so she tucked the small flower into the cup of her brassiere for safe keeping. A massive gust of wind howled through the stones, shaking the trees and shrubs around her and making her wrap her small tartan blanket around her. She looked over at the very same area the women were dancing before, and heard a high pitch screech coming from behind one of the stones. Clarke decided to ignore it, slowly walking away from the stones, but the sound was too loud, ricocheting around her head, giving her a headache. Clarke walked over to the stone, another gust of wind blowing around her. She reached out to touch the stone, her hand shaking slightly. The moment her hand touched the rock she felt a shock run up her arm quickly spreading to her whole body. Clarke let out a strangled scream before blacking out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is unbetaed so all mistakes are mine! And if you can leave a kudos or comment is would appreciate it immensely!  
> [follow me on tumblr! ](%E2%80%9Dwww.ameliaapond.tumblr.com%E2%80%9D)

**Author's Note:**

> So i'm terrible at keeping schedules but hopefully the first full-length chapter will be up in the next few weeks. This is un-betaed so all mistakes are mine. Please leave a comment to tell me what you liked/disliked about it!
> 
>    
> [follow me on tumblr! ](%E2%80%9Dwww.ameliaapond.tumblr.com%E2%80%9D)


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